An Average Wife

I’m not a winner in the genetic lottery. I wasn't programmed to have a perfect complexion, bright blue eyes, silky blond hair, huge firm breasts, or a tight shapely ass. What I am is a thirty-one-year-old woman who is 5'5" tall, with shoulder length brown hair, and brown eyes. I’m not fat nor am I thin. I’m about twelve pounds above my ideal body weight (thanks to bearing two children) that despite what I do, can’t seem to lose. I have a few wrinkles beginning to form along the corners of my eyes, but as long as they continue to make lotions and potions, I hope to keep them to a minimum.

What I’m trying to say is that I am average. Like the majority of the women in the world, I will never grace the cover of a fashion magazine, but I do get an occasional second look from men in public.

I am pretty in my own way, and frankly, I am sick and tired of being bombarded by television and radio advertisements, along with magazine articles telling me if I would only eat the right kind of food, attend the local health spa, and memorize the articles that assure me I can get any man I want to give me unlimited orgasms in a single night, I will be the perfect modern liberated woman. Sadly, many women buy into this crap. Not me, I like me just the way I am, and I’ll tell you why.

By 9:30pm or so, Lance and I have the children settled in for the night. I can tell from the way he has watched me during dinner, and the only slightly camouflaged suggestions he has made, that he is planning on having me later for dessert. I love the anticipation.

In just a little while, Lance will make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. He will take his time. I know his routine and I love every second of it.

When I step from the shower, he will sit with me for a few minutes on the bedside and rub my shoulders. His warm masculine touch soon replaces all the tension that has built up in me during the day. While his hands continue to massage my shoulders, he will lower his lips to my ear and tell me how much he has thought about, and desired me all day.

As he gently lowers me back onto the bed, and his hands move from my shoulders to explore the other areas of my body, I can tell from the look in his eyes that I am no average woman to him, but the very focus of all of his sexual desire.

He opens the robe I have wrapped myself in from the shower. To Lance, the extra few pounds I carry in my stomach and on my hips is non existent. He lowers his lips to mine and kisses me lightly, and then more deeply. The feeling, as he rolls on top of me, is one of wonderful surrender. The firmness of his arousal presses against my thigh. I am getting wet in anticipation. Lance knows this, and soon his hand and fingers will find this most sensitive part of my body.

We will leave the light on, because we not only want to feel, but also see the pleasure we provide for each other. We are unashamed and uninhibited in each other’s presence. In a few moments, we will join together as one, and the world will blur, and then fade into the background.

As his finger slips easily into me, he knows I am ready. Positioning himself at my entrance, he pauses, briefly, to savor the moment. Then he is inside me, filling me, stretching me, and I give myself to him completely.

Wrapping my legs around his back, I rotate my hips to match his movement. Our eyes stay locked together. I can see the reflection of my lust in his eyes. Words are unnecessary. We have done this so many times before, yet each time is new, better than the last. Experience has tuned our senses and responses together which only heightens our pleasure.

Our movements, slow at first, quicken. We are climbing the peak together, joined as one. We are both close now, and our pace becomes wonderfully furious. The timing is perfect. As I begin to cry out in release, he covers my mouth with his as though to pull into himself the totality of my orgasm. Simultaneously, I feel him shudder, and I grip him tighter as he empties himself deep inside of me.

For several minutes we lie next to each other. I feel safe, secure, and desired. With Lance, I don’t have to be anyone other than myself.

To many others I may be an average woman, but to my husband, I am his treasure, and he is mine. I love this man more than I love my own life, and I know he feels the same about me.

I take a moment and think of all the average women in the world just like me, and I have to smile. Because I know, like me, they wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.